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THE FAMILIAR SCENTSof paper and glass cleaner greeted Riley when she pushed into the comic store. Archer looked up from his spot across the room the moment the door chimed, and his smile grew when he saw her.
“Hey.” His greeting was warm.
“Hey, yourself.”
His smile wilted a little. “You’re not here for me.”
Guilt that it was so obvious tickled her senses. She could at least make small talk. “I didn’t say that. What’s up?”
He shook his head and stepped aside. “Nice try, but I’m not buying it. He’s upstairs.”
“Archer.” She reached out but dropped her hand before it connected with him. What was she going to say? She couldn’t give him false hope. An apology didn’t sound appropriate, since she hadn’t done anything wrong.
He stepped farther away. “No big deal. I have work to do anyway.”
Relief at the quick reprieve made her guilt grow, and she wove her way through the store and toward the back stairs without much more than a quick goodbye. She should have gone through the back entrance and avoided Archer altogether, but old habits died hard.
She still struggled with feeling bad about not feeling bad for brushing Archer off when she knocked on Zane’s door.
“’S open.”
She pushed inside, latched the door shut behind her, and flipped the lock into place. She wasn’t sure why, but something told her it might be a good idea.
Zane stood at the opposite end of the room in the kitchen area, leaning against the counter near the sink, and eating a Popsicle. He gave her an exaggerated wink. “Do anything for you, baby?”
Some of her tension evaporated at the display. She laughed and crossed the room. “Are you saying you’re interested in letting me watch you lick phallic things?”
“No.”
“Too bad.” She pushed out her lower lip. Stepping forward, she wrapped her hand around his wrist and sucked the sweet slowly into her mouth, devouring the entire length before pulling back with a slurp. A low groan tore from his throat. She licked her lips, eyes wide and—she hoped—innocent, as she looked at him again.
He tossed the Popsicle in the sink. “You’re evil. Like a hundred and twenty percent.”
She stepped away, thumbs in her pockets, tugging down the waistband of her jeans. “Are you complaining?”
“Not even close.” He nudged her toward the couch and nodded at the laptop on the coffee table. “Watch with me.”
She dropped onto the futon next to him, her arm brushing his. “What are we watching?” She blinked and looked a second time.He wasn’t.Really?
Thin, animated girls, with Crayola-colored hair and skirts so short they didn’t even cover their asses, battled evil cartoon villains. “Why are you watchingSailor Moon?”
“I wanted to see something.”
“The subtle lesbian subtext?” She knew a lot of people loved the show and considered it their introduction to anime—Japanese cartoons—but she’d never been able to get into it.
“Honestly...” He shifted in his seat and rested his arm on the back of the couch, his attention on her. “It’s really a more in-your-face kind of thing. Also, I was thinking about how cool it would be if that were your stuff. Can you imagine them animating your drawings?”
She could. She had. “It’s still an excuse.”
He shrugged. “It is. I was bored. I didn’t know what you’d want to watch, so I grabbed something I thought might make me laugh.”
She leaned her head on his arm, enjoying the warmth of his skin against hers. “Did it work?”
“Absolutely. It’s hilarious. You should try it.”
She twisted her mouth. He knew how she felt about the show.